Dance With The Devil
by screamqueenie
Summary: Nicolette will do whatever it takes to stay safe, even if that means she has to ask for help from the MacManus brothers.


It was a typical night at the pub. Rowdy men were scattered throughout the establishment; playing games of pool or leaning against the bar counter. The drone of clinking glasses and animated conversations filled the air along with cigarette smolder.

The only thing that was out of place on this night was a lone woman sitting in a booth next to a window. Dark chocolate hair acted as a veil to hide her nervous appearance of lip biting and darting eyes. Her actions weren't covered as well. Her manicured fingers tapped on the tabletop when they weren't fumbling with a cell phone. After checking the time and for any messages, she would place the phone back on the table next to an untouched glass of beer. With the merriment going on, the woman thought nobody would pay any attention to her.

"Hey Doc. Who's the lass?" A man with brunette hair and the word Aequitas tattooed on his right hand asked the bartender by pointing his beer in the woman's direction.

"I don't know-w. She ordered a beer and went alone to-to-to. Fuck!" the aging barkeep with Tourettes blurt out.

The man's outburst made the lady turn in their direction. A small grin crept on her olive toned face, but she quickly went back to her reverie when she saw the men were looking back at her.

"Did ye see that? She smiled at me." The younger man exclaimed with a smirk of his own.

Next to him, was a man who had a similar tattoo on his left hand, but it said Veritas, chuckled to the statement. "She smiled at me Murph, not you."

"Ye always do this Connor. Yer just jealous that woman prefer me. "

The two men continued to quarrel and remain oblivious to the three burly men who strode through the bar door and walked straight to the woman.

The lady's eyes grew wide at the appearance of the men. She snatched up her cell phone and purse and scrambled out of the booth. One of the hefty men shoved her back down to the seat with one finger. "You aren't going anywhere Nicolette." The man spat out. He then plopped himself on the bench next to her, while the other two men situated themselves on the other side of the table.

"Where's our money?" The muscular man who sat right across from the woman asked. The man had a shaved head and a lengthy scar running across his face.

"I don't have it." The woman spoke soft, yet firm with a faint Italian accent.

"You were told to have it to us by the fifteenth. And what's today?"

"I don't have it. Now leave me alone."

"Big Al won't be too pleased when he hears you don't have his money yet."

"I don't care about Big Al. Now leave me alone." Nicolette repeated herself in a harsher tone than before.

As she spoke, she didn't realize that the man next to her had swiftly reached behind her back and grabbed a hold of her purse.

"Hey!" Nicolette shrieked when she saw her belongings being gone through, "Give that back you bastard!"

"Is there a problem here fellas?" The man from the bar counter known as Connor asked then took a swill of the beer he held in his hand.

Murphy and himself had made their way over to Nicolette's table after they had first heard her tell the brawny men to leave her alone.

"There's no problem here. Now get lost." The beefy man with the scar retorted.

"I'm afraid we can't do that until ye let the lovely lady go," declared Murphy.

The three heavyset men stood up from the booth and towered over the two Irish men. The size difference didn't seem to phase the two men as they both guzzled down the last of the beer that were in their glasses.

"Why don't you make us?" They retorted in unison.

There were no words passed between Murphy and Connor. Just a eye contact and a small nod to each other signaled the beginning of their tirade.

Connor and Murphy took their empty glasses and smashed them across the faces of the two outer men of the group. The two bigger men doubled over in pain; wincing as they covered their bloody faces with their hands.

The man standing in the middle, who happened to be the one Nicolette dubbed Scarface, had been fast on his feet and stepped back towards the table where she was sitting motionless from fear. She saw Scarface was close to her and did not take notice of her position.

Nicolette had taken her purse and stood up. She flung her bag in the air, aiming for the guy's face. Not only was Nicolette too short to reach his head, but as she missed, her weighty purse kept going and dragged her to the ground. On the way down, her forehead smashed against the edge of the table.

Blood was rapidly oozing out of the wound, making Nicolette dizzy as she tried to watch the brawl between the remaining men from the floor of the bar. Her body got the best of her; making her lose consciousness and miss the big finale to her night.


End file.
